affinity
by faces sunward
Summary: with each passing day, it becomes harder and harder to get up and walk by his side. — pikachu, red, green


_It's been three long years, but Pikachu remembers this place well. His fur begins to bristle as they approach the imposing building with the tinted windows, and he digs his claws into Red's shoulder in warning. _

_'Don't go in there, Master,' he says, and hopes that the boy will understand him. 'There are bad things in that place.'_

_But the boy simply reaches up and scratches him behind the ears. "It's fine," he says quietly (though everything about Red is quiet). "It'll be alright."_

_Always the brave one, Red pulls the double doors open and steps inside, into the bad place from Pikachu's memory._

_It's brighter inside than it was three years ago – the shadows are not as prolific, and the fluorescent overhead lights illuminate most of the barren, rocky battlefield. The smell of fear and bloodlust that once tinged the air has all but disappeared, overwhelmed by the fresh scent of longing. And the dark man with the frighteningly sad eyes is nowhere to be found. His face, hardened beyond its years, is slowly fading from Pikachu's mind (as if he had never been there at all)._

_His undoubtedly painful grip on Red's shoulder loosens. The boy is right once again – there is no longer anything to fear in this place. In fact, Pikachu can sense an underlying vein of happiness amidst Red's usual apathy. His Master is overjoyed to be here, in this place-that-was-once-bad, though Pikachu is not sure why._

"_Sorry," a voice calls from across the room. "Gym's closed today. Come back tomorrow if you're looking for a battle."_

_A pause._

"_Alright," Red says, and turns to leave. "I'll do that."_

"… _Wait." Out of the shadows steps another boy, with messy brown hair and a lazy gait. Pikachu recognizes him instantly – he is Green, the one that Red would talk about with smiling eyes as they sat together atop the mountain. Green is as much a part of Pikachu's memories as Red is, and this familiar face is exciting to the electric Pokemon. Maybe now, after three years of desolate cold and white, things are finally going back to normal._

"_Holy hell," Green murmurs. His eyes, which were haughty and confrontational once upon a time, are wide and conflicted. "Red…"_

"_Hello, Green," Red says curtly. "It's good to see you." Under his stoic mask emotions are at war – Pikachu can feel his Master's joy and regret and apprehension pulling at one another in a frantic tug-o-war. It is shocking to sense such emotions from Red, who is (was) a person at constant equilibrium._

"_Are you back?" Green asks. He looks pained as he asks this, war-torn and weary, as if he's too tired to hear a negative reply. "For good, I mean?"_

_Red nods, and returns Green's welcoming embrace._

xx

Pikachu hears the key turning in the lock, and his long ears prick upwards. Red is home! The door swings open, and the muffled murmur of voices (mostly Green's) drifts through the apartment, a familiar and pleasing sound.

Pikachu rouses himself from the warm spot in the window seat with some difficulty. Lately, his body seems to have trouble doing what he wants it to do. _Run_, he'll tell his paws, and they'll remain stubbornly planted on the ground, mocking him with their mutiny. _Jump_, he'll command, but everything will feel weighted and leaden, as if something was holding him down. Simply walking across the room or leaping on to the bed can make his once-powerful muscles ache, and all his body wants to do is sleep. His mind, however, is still on the battlefield, calculating the opponent's next move.

The electric Pokemon makes his way to the kitchen slowly but surely, and rubs up against Red's pant leg in greeting. (Later that evening, Pikachu knows, Green will complain about the dusting of light yellow fur that decorates the bedsheets and all the clothes, and Red will shake his head bemusedly.)

"Hello Pikachu," Red says. He bends down to scratch his friend behind the ear, in that one hard-to-reach spot. "How was your day?"

_I'm not sure, Master_, Pikachu says. _I went to sleep and it just slipped away._

But Red doesn't seem to understand. He nods and smiles that special smile reserved for Pikachu alone, oblivious to his friend's worries. Pikachu isn't offended. Red hasn't been able to understand him for a long while now (it's easier to talk to children, you see, and Red isn't a child anymore).

Sometimes, though, Pikachu wishes for the days when he and Red were connected, when the boy had not yet been ensnared by the company of other humans. Things were simpler back then, with constant battles against humankind, Pokemon, and nature alike. Back then, it was him and Red against the world.

Now, Pikachu thinks, it is him standing alone against the cruelty of time.

Red is looking at him expectantly, and Pikachu realizes what he wants: he is waiting for his friend to jump up on his shoulder, just like they used to do all those years ago. But Pikachu's hind legs don't have that kind of strength anymore. He stares up at Red sadly, trying to remember what it was like to see the world from a human's point of view.

"What's wrong, Pikachu?" the dark-haired boy (man) asks, tilting his head to the side.

"He's getting old, Red," Green says from across the kitchen, where he is busy reading the back of a package of noodles. "You've had that Pikachu for what, fifteen, sixteen years? His time's almost up, I'd say."

Red's eyes widen. He looks like he's been slapped.

"… That's not true, is it?" he asks quietly, petting Pikachu with loving, gentle hands. "You've still got plenty of time left, don't you?"

But the electric Pokemon knows that no matter what he says, Red will not understand him.

xx

_It is lonely at the top of this mountain, amidst the endless snow._

_Pikachu doesn't mind the solitude so much – he has Red, and Red has him, and that's all he'll ever need. But after the second year he can smell the forlorn lonesomeness in every breath his Master takes. Red may not be a people person, but he's still a person. Humans need other humans, and Pokemon need other Pokemon (unless, of course, they have a human worth protecting). That's the natural order of things. _

_Red's loneliness is the understated kind, never obvious but present in every movement he makes, in every hushed word he speaks. Pikachu feels badly for his Master, who had once been so content apart from others of his kind, but knows there is nothing to be done. Red will stay on this mountain forever, if need be, just to show the world that he's the best. (But is that really what he's trying to prove?)_

_Then comes the boy with the golden eyes and the backwards baseball cap. Red is never overconfident, but Pikachu can tell that he expects to win. Why wouldn't he? He's beaten everyone else. He's ascended to a place where no one can touch him – in the eyes of the trainers that come to face him, Red is merely a myth, an urban legend, a tale told to children before they set out on their own Pokemon journeys. No one can win against a legend._

_But Charizard and Snorlax fall quickly. Blastoise and Lapras are no match for the boy's Ampharos, and Venusaur is dealt with harshly by his Typhlosion. When it is finally Pikachu's turn, Red surrenders without a fight. The golden-eyed boy looks shocked, unable to come to terms with his victory (because how can one unseat a god so easily?), and Red does not say a word to him, simply nods and walks away._

_Later, Pikachu sees blessed relief in his Master's eyes._

"_I lost," he says, and smiles genuinely for the first time in three years. "We're going home."_

xx

One afternoon, Red wakes him from his nap.

"Come on," he says, and picks Pikachu up gently. "Let's go for a walk. Let's go exploring, just like old times."

They walk along Route 22, the same route they took back when Green was more rival than friend and becoming the best was merely a boyish dream. Pikachu tries to keep up with Red's long strides, but finds himself falling farther and farther behind – his old heart just can't take the strain of journeying anymore. He stares at Red's retreating figure, so close and yet so distant, and panic sets in.

_Wait for me, Master_, he calls weakly. _Please don't leave me._

Red stops. He hangs his head and clenches his fists and waits for Pikachu to catch up.

"I didn't want to believe it," he says. His face is averted, but the electric Pokemon can smell the sadness saturating his skin. "I didn't want to believe what Green said – that you're getting old. That you… That you…"

He lowers himself down, right in the middle of the dirt path, and puts his head in his hands. Pikachu crawls into his lap with the last of his strength.

_I'm sorry,_ Pikachu says, and nuzzles Red's chin worriedly. _I wanted to protect you forever, Master, but I don't think I can._

xx

"_Champion for twenty minutes, eh? Must be a new record." The brown-haired boy laughs, but it is a choked, painful sound, and his voice trembles with tears he'll never shed. He returns his fainted Alakazam to its Pokeball and stands there, staring at the ground, as if he can make this bad dream go away if he tries hard enough._

"_Green…"_

"_No. Don't say it. Don't say anything at all." Green's shoulders begin to shake ever so slightly. "I don't need your kind words or your pity. I don't need anything from you! You… You just can't let me win, can you? You've always got to be one step ahead, don't you Red? The perfect little hero, always better than me at everything…"_

_Red is silent. Pikachu can sense his relief at being crowned the victor, overshadowed by terrible shame and distress for what he has done to the boy in front of him._

"… _Forget it. Congratulations, __**Champion**__." Green turns away, swiping at his eyes angrily, and leaves the room without a backwards glance. Silence falls in his wake._

"_I did it," Red says, and his quiet voice echoes across the empty battlefield. There is no happiness in his eyes. "I'm a Pokemon Master, Pikachu. I'm a Pokemon Master."_

xx

It is early evening, and Green is still at the gym. Dusty orange light filters through the curtains, illuminating the motes of dust that twirl through the air. Red lies in bed and holds Pikachu in his arms carefully, delicately, as if the electric Pokemon might break if he's hugged too tight.

"Don't worry, old friend," Red whispers, close to his ear. "There are no more battles to be fought."

Yes, Pikachu thinks. No more battles. His Master is safe now, and happy. The battles have long been over. His body is so tired. Now is the time for rest.

Satisfied, Pikachu leans his head against Red's chest, and closes his eyes.

xx

xx

_Viridian Forest is a foreboding place, even in the daytime. Trees tower overhead, blocking out the sunlight, and unseen things scurry from shadow to shadow. The grass underfoot is long and tangled, a perfect hiding place for predators. But Pikachu is not afraid. He cannot be. He has someone to protect, you see – a quiet boy with dark hair and a sensible mind. Pikachu quite likes this boy, this "Red". He is wary and determined and kind at all the right times. And though Pikachu does not know where Red plans to lead him, he knows that he will follow, no matter where or when or how._

_Side by side, Red and Pikachu traverse the darkness of Viridian Forest, headed towards new beginnings._


End file.
